Father's Day at the CBI
by Anouka93
Summary: Rough day for Jane, rougher day for Lisbon


**I started this on Fathers Day and forgot about it, but hopefully you find it interesting! Thanks for reading!**

Father's Day at the CBI

It was for all intents and purposes a perfectly normal day at the California Bureau of Investigation. The sunlight was pouring into the comfortably air conditioned building and Patrick Jane lay on his faded brown leather couch, eyes closed, enjoying the soft hum of noise as agents and various types of law workers bustled around the building, chattering and rustling papers as they went about their work.

Jane tried to let the noise, which he had once described as "like the ocean," lull him into a restful doze, but he couldn't seem to drop off to sleep this morning, as he usually did after pulling a Red John-obsessed all-nighter in his CBI attic space. His mind was filled with visions of what now seemed to him like another lifetime. Images of his wife and daughter, bathed in the sunlight streaming through the ceiling-to-floor windows of their beautiful Malibu home. He saw his wife's bright smile, her slender, beautiful body crouched on the floor, focused on a large piece of paper, filled with the detailed, flowery drawings by her daughter. He saw his child, around 6 years old in this memory, her blonde waves of hair glistening in the sun while she too crouched over the paper in a position mimicking her mother's. He saw his little girl's pale skin, like Angela's, glowing as she enjoyed the full attention of her mother, turning her head frequently to watch her father's face, the light catching her clear blue eyes.

"Daddy, how many puppies can Dalmatians actually have?"

"5 or 6."

"What, Jane?"

Jane saw his daughter's face, her eyes focused on his, a smile on her lips, blurring, fading into blackness. His wife's auburn hair caught the sun before disappearing with the rest of the picture.

"5 or 6," Jane said again.

"Jane, wake up." Jane opened his eyes to find himself, disappointingly, on his leather couch in the Major Crimes unit of the CBI. He looked up to see his partner and friend, Teresa Lisbon, standing over him, looking down into his face with obvious concern. She seemed to hesitate before saying,

"You were talking in your sleep. I've never seen you do that before."

Jane averted his eyes and swung his legs off of the couch into a seated position, readjusting his waistcoat as he stalled before replying. He didn't look particularly willing as he looked back at Lisbon and said,

"Really? Did I say anything interesting?"

"You tell me, you just kept repeating '5 or 6,' '5 or 6.' How would I know what that means?" Lisbon smiled warmly at him, and Jane knew she wasn't trying to interrogate him. He in fact sensed that she was spending more time on the sleep-talk than was really necessary, trying to gauge his mood this morning, concerned that a day celebrating fatherhood would send him somewhere morose.

Jane fully remembered the question he'd been answering, the reply similar to the ones he had given in response to his daughter's numerous, fascinated questions for most of her short life. She always wanted to know how animals did things; how they ate, how they slept, how they had babies… Jane pushed this thread to the back of his mind and forced a smile at Lisbon.

"I must have been dreaming about math. Such a passionate subject." Lisbon rolled her eyes.

"You're funny." Jane gave a genuine smile this time, while Lisbon continued,

"No, really, keep going, the dead guy can wait." Jane arranged his face into theatrical confusion.

"What dead guy?"

Lisbon wasn't faking annoyance when she replied,

"What dead guy- Marvin Sanders, divorce attorney, his body was found naked in a public park." Jane didn't show any signs of recognition.

"Dammit, Jane, give me a break and just participate, would you? Don't tell me that, for whatever reason, this case isn't entertaining enough for you, so you're going to cut out and brood over Red John files in the attic!" Rather than becoming louder, Lisbon's voice became a sharp whisper as she said all of this. Jane understood that Lisbon was getting more agitated than was good for the wellbeing of the team, so he decided to get to the point.

"As it happens, I won't be working this case, actually, but not because of lack of entertainment value. In fact, judging by the unclothed state in which Mr. Sanders was found, you have a pretty interesting case ahead of you."

"Then why aren't you taking part? Do you have a new lead on Red John?" Jane turned his head from side to side a little, stalling while he though of which lie to tell. After a moment he settled on infuriating vagueness.

"Ahhh… I just have some things to do. You know, errands." With these words Jane rose from the couch and walked out of the bullpen past Lisbon, still standing by his couch, and past Rigsby, Cho and Van Pelt, all sitting at their desks working and pretending not to eavesdrop on the conversation.

Van Pelt spoke first.

"What was that all about, Boss?" Lisbon turned to face the pretty young agent, looking tired and resigned.

"That was Jane being Jane. Let him be that way, we got a case to solve. Let's take two cars to the crime scene in case we need to split up. C'mon." Lisbon stalked out of the bullpen towards the elevators, and her agents all hurried to gather their things and follow her to the parking lot.

Lisbon could barely concentrate at the crime scene. Though anyone would have guessed that an investigation without Jane's shenanigans might be restful, Lisbon was agitated and distracted while she spoke to her team, witnesses and forensic pathologists. Though she remained professional, her whole team saw that her mind wasn't really with them. Jane had taken the day off under the ruse that he needed to focus on Red John, but they of course had their suspicions. Jane wasn't outwardly sentimental, didn't display his grief to others… but now and again, maybe once or twice a year, a certain day came around that made him seem "off."

For the team, the exact dates were a little foggy, and, of course, they didn't focus on Jane's moods so much as Lisbon did. For all they knew, Jane could just be a little strange sometimes. That was enough explanation. Lisbon always knew what dates meant. She knew anniversaries, she knew birthdays, and she knew the day 'it' happened. She knew the holidays that struck a nerve. She tried not to act on this knowledge, for she didn't want Jane to know she obsessed over him and his well-being, but sometimes she couldn't help herself.

As Lisbon stood listening to the forensics expert commenting on the state of the murder victim she tried to look like she was focused on what he was saying but in reality all she could think about was Jane. How he was doing. _What _he was doing. She thought of his yearly drinking binge on the anniversary of his family's murder. It was a tradition she only knew about since following him to the restaurant one year and watching him go inside alone, only to stumble out drunk a couple of hours later. She'd never told him that she knew of the tradition because she feared even more secrecy from him (as though there could be any more) and because she didn't want him to know how she'd so invaded his privacy. His trust in her and their friendship was Teresa Lisbon's most treasured possession.

%%%&&&###

The case was far more complicated and involved than Lisbon had anticipated, and, having passed midnight, it was no longer technically Father's Day when she knocked on the door of Jane's long-term motel room. She heard some shuffling in the room and the dull blare of the television being switched off before the door opened slowly to reveal her handsome consultant, looking not so different from his normal work appearance, at least from a first glance. Standing there in his vest and shirt, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly messed up, Lisbon could see the subtle signs of a rough day on his face. He didn't look terribly surprised to see her, and confirmed this when he said,

"Ah, my good friend Lisbon, I was wondering when you'd turn up." He was plastering a triumphant, but fake smile on his face, feigning the usual high he got off of being right. "Honestly, I thought you'd be here sooner. Holdup at the crime scene?"

Lisbon didn't know what to say, because she couldn't imagine telling him why she was really here; of course, she was in no position to lie either, not to this man. Not that it seemed to matter, for he's seemed to already guess why she was standing here at his rarely-mentioned motel room at 12.22 in the morning. They were used to late nights together, but not in this place, practically an emblem for Jane's empty life, at least outside of the CBI.

Visibly lost for words, Lisbon stalled and blurted out, "You wanna get a cup of coffee, Jane? I need to, uh, consult you about the case! You are still my consultant, right?" Lisbon forced out a false dry laugh and waited for Jane to read her mind, as he always did, and expose her real motives. His eyes were knowing.

"You're very sweet, Lisbon, yes, I would love to drink some tea and _consult _on the investigation. Let me get my coat."

%%%&&&###

During those dark morning hours Patrick Jane and Teresa Lisbon found themselves in an all night diner just a few blocks away from his motel. Lisbon had come equipped with case files to use as decoys, and they had ended up discussing the case at great length while their waitress continuously circled round to refill Lisbon's coffee and Jane's cup of tea. While Jane studied the victim, Lisbon studied Jane, more than she usually did, even. She knew that he couldn't have possibly believed she would trawl all the way out to his motel at midnight just to consult on the case, but she felt relieved that he was apparently letting her off the hook, pretending to buy the premise of her visit. At least, until a little past 3.30 am when Jane took a sip from his newly refilled cup of tea and dropped the evidence file he'd been holding onto the table and leaned back into the booth cushion, looking at Lisbon squarely in the eyes.

"Well, this is all very obvious, Lisbon. Sanders was killed by his landlord, Clarence Bishop. So, now that the case is solved, do you want to tell me why we're here, doing this, or do I need to reveal that one too? I can read your mind, you're like an open book to me, Teresa…"

Lisbon felt her cheeks burn red, and instinctively bowed her head, trying to hide behind her dark curtain of hair.

Jane smiled genuinely now, amused by Lisbon's sudden bashfulness. He continued, "It's okay Lisbon. I'm touched, really. I'll admit I worry about you when Mother's Day comes around, but I've never gone so far as to drive to your house, check up on you. Do I really seem that… forlorn?"

Lisbon, who'd been avoiding eye contact for the entire time he spoke, finally forced herself to look at Jane straight on. She could barely stand it; looking into his eyes was like looking into the sun. She loved him so much, and whether her love for him came from a place of romance or friendship, sisterly affection or passionate sensuality, she had yet to figure out.

"Fine, Jane, you got me… I'm too honest to lie convincingly, blah, blah… Just don't embarrass me, Jane, I was just trying to-"

"Help, I know. You're always trying to help everyone. You try to help me more than I deserve." Jane stopped to look at Teresa's sheepish face for a moment, assessing how best to express what he wanted to say. "I'm sorry I just ran off this morning, I should have stuck around, helped you guys solve the case… God knows you need my help… I was just feeling sorry for myself, brooding. You might have noticed that I do that a little." His voice had a jesting tone to it as he tried to keep the conversation light, but a clean, sober sense of grief had settled over him and he wouldn't be able to shake it any time soon. His demons had caught up with him, as they always did.

"Jane, you can brood as much as you want. I'm sorry I came here, I don't mean to intrude, I just… as a friend, I wanted to… check that you were okay, I guess. You were weird earlier. I mean, weirder than normal." Jane didn't react to the friendly jibe. He was looking down at his left hand resting on the table, his strong, yet nimble fingers fiddling with his wedding band. Lisbon followed his gaze and stared at his wedding ring's soft gold glint in the florescent diner lights until her eyes glazed over. When she felt the heavy tug of exhaustion on her eyelids she knew it was time to go, to leave Jane alone with his thoughts, his memories, and to whatever devil he kept inside of him.

As Lisbon shuffled out of the booth, gathering the case files that had been strewn all over the table, Jane continued his idle fiddling, not reacting in the slightest to her movement. Lisbon turned to leave, but, before taking even a step, turned back to look at Jane, and said softly, "You know, Jane, when I was a girl I would have given anything for a father half as good as you are." With that she turned on her heel and left.


End file.
